dropped from her and lay upon the floor; it had made her turn ghastly white, and she was speechless with the effect of it. "It 's too abominable—it 's too unspeakable!" she then cried.
"Isn't it a charming thing?" Sir Claude asked. "It has just arrived, enclosed in a word of her own. She sends it on to me with the remark that comment is superfluous. I really think it is—that 's all you can say."
"She ought n't to pass such a horror about," said Mrs. Wix. "She ought to put it straight in the fire."
"My dear woman, she 's not such a fool! It's much too precious." He had picked the letter up, and he gave it, again, a glance of complacency which produced a light in his face. "Such a document"—he considered, then concluded with a slight drop—"such a document is, in fine, a basis."
"A basis for what?"
"Well—for proceedings."
"Hers?" Mrs. Wix's voice had become outright the voice of derision. "How can she proceed?"
Sir Claude turned it over. "How can she get rid of him? Well—she is rid of him."
"Not legally." Mrs. Wix had never looked
